The Savior's Painting
by Mello the Jello
Summary: Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, was missing from Hogwarts? How is that even possible? Does The Dark Lord have him? Is he dead? Or is there a hidden enemy in their midst? AU sixth year. Dumbledore-Weasley Bashing.
1. Chapter 1

**So I started this story with my friend a few years back and I wanted to show it off. Tell me what you think but be nice about it please. In other words, use constructive criticism. Thanks.**

 **Warning: This will be a yaoi. As in male X male. If you don't like, feel free to run. If you do, then hop aboard the Hogwarts Express!**

 **Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own any characters in this story. They all belong to J. K. Rowling. The plot is mine.**

Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy, the Lord-Heir of the Malfoy family, frowned as he unconsciously walked through the halls of Hogwarts.

When he arrived here for his sixth year after the train ride, he immediately looked for the Gryffindor Golden Boy he's been obsessing over since fourth year, not that he would admit to that statement. Only his closest friends would know about that. Yet when he walked through the Great Hall's doors and looked to the Gryffindor table, he saw no Potter. Even his friends seemed distressed, or at least Granger seemed to be. The mudblood looked near tears, yet weasel seemed to be surprisingly calm, eating like it was his last meal as always.

The other problem was the Headmaster. The twinkle in his eye was more pronounced than ever. One would think the headmaster to be at least a bit out of sorts for the loss of his favorite student.

Now that Draco thought about it, he doesn't remember seeing the Golden Boy on the train. His friends didn't look concerned. Probably thinking he left with Aurors before the train left. It was common knowledge that Potter was heavily guarded. It made him feel at ease to know that he was semi safer than what he'd be on the train. Not that the train wasn't safe, being that it was exceedingly warded and even more since the war.

It was odd that the wizard poster child would be missing from Hogwarts. Especially through the sorting ceremony. Where could he be?

Draco halted in his musings as the very ones he was just thinking of turned the corner. Granger and Weasley in all their Gryffindor glory was walking towards him. Draco thought that if he just walked a bit faster.. "Oi, Malfoy!," the tall red head shouted towards him. Or not, he thought. Sighing of how inevitable this confrontation was he jutted his chin out and put on his trademark sneer, directing it towards the fuming lion.

"Well look who it is," he drawled. "Two little Gryffindors outside the lion's den. What is it Weasley? Come to scope out the dungeons for Death Eaters? Oh by all means go right ahead. Though I can't promise you that you will return the same way you stepped in."

The freckled boy just stood there glaring at him and before he could say anything Granger stepped in. "My apologies Malfoy, but we were wondering if you knew where Harry was," she said in an oddly kind voice. Glancing at her, one could see how nervous and mentally tired she was.

Before Draco could even open his mouth Weasley took a step towards him, getting dangerously close to his personal space and spewed, "Of course he knows Hermione! He is always the fault for everything that has happened to Harry! Death Eater that he is. I wouldn't be surprised if he had Harry taken and put in his dungeons!"

Draco had kept calm through the entire rant. Passively letting the hurtful comments pass over his head. That is, until he accused him of being a Death Eater. That always hurt, but what hurt more was the false assumptions that he would ever hurt Harry. "What would you know Weasel?! Your face is always planted in the dirt that Harry's boots walk, that I'm surprised you even noticed that he was gone," Draco jeered not even noticing that he had used Harry's given name.

Though Ron didn't notice the slip, Hermione's eyes said that she certainly had. Draco took no notice and braced himself for the onslaught of which was one, Ronald Billius Weasley. Like he predicted his world was suddenly overtaken by a sea of red. Ron being the one who was making the first move, Draco had no problem going at it with the red head. Then thought again. Draco had made it his resolution this school year to try to make amends with Potter. And making amends with Potter meant making amends with his friends. Though the idea down right revolted him he began to sidestep the tall boy. Though thinking better of the situation, Draco pulled out his wand.

Ron seeing what the Slytherin was doing quickly said his best friend's favorite spell, "Expelliarmus!"

Draco, predicting the disarming spell willingly let go of the wand as it was violently ripped from his person. And just as it landed in the Gryffindor's hand, he cocked back his fist and landed one square on his already crooked nose.

Ron yelped in pain and brought his hand up to his face. Blood running through his fingers in rivulets dripping onto his tawdry uniform, soiling it further. "Bloody hell!" Ron shrieked trying to stand back up yet slipping on his own blood, making a further mess of himself.

Draco put his hand up to his mouth, making it seem as if he was checking his hand for wounds. Yet in reality Draco was in fact stifling a laugh, seeing the obvious humor in the statement. He thought he was the only was who saw the obvious irony in the statement until he heard a faint snicker. He looked around, puzzled. The only people in the hall was Granger, Weasley, and him and neither of them were laughing nor did it seem like they had heard the laugh. Granger was too busy trying to help Weasley and said boy was so angry, he looked like a walking tomato. Draco doubted he'd hear anything in his fit of rage.

"Why you," Ron said as he finally stood up with the help of Hermione. Nose broken and pride damaged it seemed like nothing would stop the wave of rage that had seemingly broken through the dams of the young Weasleys small mind.

He began taking the few step it would take to get to Slytherin Prince, that was until they heard a deep, gravely voice say, "Why Mr. Weasley, what is this? Might I suggest you back down from this obvious assault. Why how crass could you be, though unsurprising being where you where and how you were raised."

Ron looked taken back, even though he probably shouldn't have been, being that Snape's timing was always impeccable.

Not surprisingly Hermione stepped up first and plead, "Professor we-"

"Ten points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn Granger, and Weasley, five points for defacing school property with your bodily fluids," Snape said as he cut off the Gryffindor.

'There it was again' thought Draco. Through the conversation he heard the soft titter from before. Again he searches for the sound that seemed to only grace his ears and yet again he is lead to disappointment. All he found was an empty hallway with portraits and paintings sparsely littering the corridor's walls.

Before he could determine if he was really hearing the laughter or simply going mad, he turned back to the scene before him just as Snape began to address him. "Mr. Malfoy, care to explain?"

"Why Professor, I was just walking through the corridor, on my way to the dormitory, when I stumbled upon Weasley and Granger. I was just on my way when Weasley attacked me," Draco said in his most innocent voice. He knew Snape saw right through it. Snape didn't take any shit. He was mostly doing it to spite the flaming red head and the invisible, giggling voice.

Snape's eyebrow rose before he turned back to the two Gryffindors. "Fifty points for physically assaulting a fellow student." He paused at Weasley's outburst. "Now, I suggest you two go back to your dormitory before I take an additional twenty points away." He snarled. The two lions glared at the potions master before stomping away, grumbling about snarky, greasy haired gits. "Ten points for disrespecting a teacher Mr. Weasley." Snape ignored him as an additional round of outbursts rang loudly through the halls and turned to leave. Draco followed, as there was an unspoken demand to do so.

* * *

They walked in silence until they were in Snape's office with silencing spells warding the room.

"Now what really happened?" Snape sighed as he fell into his chair and lit the hearth.

"Actually," Draco said nonchalantly as he too sunk into the one comfortable couch in the room. The rest were stiff and just about as comfortable as cardboard. They were made that way, of course. Snape always did have a sadistic streak for causing students pain, especially the ones that cross him the wrong way. "It was just as you said," the young Malfoy continued as he inspected his nails for loose grime. "Weasley attacked me, and I retaliated. End of story."

Snape raised a brow, "And why would they feel the need to do that."

Draco looked up at his godfather and said in a unknowing tone, "Well.. they felt I was part of the party that has caused our Golden Boy's disappearance."

"And are you?" Snape questioned.

Draco stood up, " Why would you even think that? What would anyone think that? Why is it always me that has to take the blame for everything? Apparently every time something happens to Potter I'm to blame. Might as well toss me into Azkaban now, he's going to die eventually and someone will find a way to pin the blame on me for that too." He was angry. At what he did not know. It was always his fault. Always. He just at least thought his Godfather would at least be on his side.

Snape sighed, "I did not mean it in that way Draco so sit down and control yourself. It is unbecoming of you." Draco did what he was told. But not without some reluctance. "Now what I meant was that you have always had a.. how should I say this? Attraction towards the Potter boy," Snape said wist giving him a knowing look.

Draco blushed scarlet. He had not realized that Severus noticed his more than friendly glances towards the curly haired Gryffindor. "Well, to be perfectly clear I have no idea where he is. Before those Gryffs attacked me, I was actually wondering where he was and the last time I'd seen him."

"And when was that?"

"A few days before the train ride to London. Do you know if he was brought home by the Aurors?" Draco asked, trying to keep down his worry for Harry. He didn't want his godfather to tease him any more on the matter. He was also worried about how Snape felt about the issue. He knew that he hated Potter, he just didn't know if the Potion's professor was disgusted with his fixation on the younger boy.

Would his godfather begin to hate him too? And now that he really thought about it, what of his father. It was too much to even think of. Draco pushed aside his thoughts and turned back to Snape as he spoke up again.

"No, Dumbledore didn't mention anything about Potter." The two Slytherins sat in confused silence, thinking the same question.

Where was Harry Potter?

* * *

The next morning, Draco walked into the Great Hall to unusual low whispering, considering how loud it always was. Small groups were huddled along the tables, gossiping about one thing only.

The whereabouts of one Harry Potter.

"People have noticed." Blaise said from beside Draco as they walked to their table. "Including you," he said with a smirk.

"They probably noticed yesterday. Dumbledore is probably hiding him somewhere." Draco said ignoring Blaise's obvious indication. Why did everyone have to point that out lately? They sat down just as Dumbledore approached the podium.

"Good morning everyone! Now, most of you have noticed that Harry Potter is not here this year. He is being schooled for the upcoming war with Aurors. So don't fret. He is safe and very much alive." He smiled, eyes twinkling.

The Hall was silent as breakfast finished and the head of each house started to hand out schedules.

Draco, discreetly, eyes the Gryffindor table as they got their classes. He watched as a few first years tentatively took their tables and looked them over, brows furrowing in confusion at the names. Muggle borns probably, not knowing anything. Draco couldn't imagine growing up the muggle way. Not knowing what magic was until they get the Hogwarts letter.

Looking around a bit more, surveying the Gryffindors and finding what he was looking for. Granger and the broken weasel. It seemed like Madam Pomfrey fixed his nose, but not without making it ever more crooked. A bit more and he'd probably rival Snape. Maybe he should tell him that next time they spoke. He would get a kick out of what the Weasley would say to him in response. Probably pitch a fit.

But Draco was not worried for Ronald's well being, let alone curious about his tantrums. What was unnerving was that Potter was still missing. One would think that the old coot would want Harry to have a social life and friends. But no Harry. And it seemed like even his friends didn't know where the Aurors took him off too.

Draco stood up as he got his schedule, not even looking at it. His father gave him his earlier, he didn't know how he was able to get a copy so soon, but it happened. He tried to brush off the anxious feeling he was getting. He tried to tell himself that Potter was fine, and safe withe the Aurors. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong with the situation.

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey again! I WAS planning on uploading this yesterday (as it was my plan to upload every Wednesday) but, alas, school got in the way. But for now I will try to post each chapter every Wednesday.**

 **On another note! For my first story, that wasn't mad. Thanks to everyone who either followed, favorited, or reviewed!**

 **Disclaimer: Alas, I do not ownth this writing. For if I did, things would have went a** **little** **(lot) different. Enjoy!**

Chapter Two

A few days later found Draco in the Astronomy tower with Blaise and Pansy.

"Draco you're over reacting," said Blaise as he rolled his eyes and moved his knight to E5. Blaise and Draco were playing wizard chess while Pansy was painting her nails besides them, listening in on their conversation.

"No I'm not Blaise," Draco replied as he took one of Blaise's pawns. Then scowled when he realized he left himself open. "You saw Granger and the Weasel, they were more than a little worried. Or, at least Granger was. Weasley probably is ecstatic. Next Hogsmeade weekend he probably is going to be flocked with the press asking questions. Tch. Congratulations Weasley, you're finally going to get what you want. Shit"

"Check-mate," Blaise said as he stretched and got up from where he was previously sitting. " That may be true, and we all know it is. Weasley is an attention whore. I'm surprised Potter can even put up with him. But Draco, you really are over reacting. You heard Dumbledore at the feast, he is safe under the custody of a group of Aurors. He is training for the upcoming sha-bang. What you should be thinking about is how we are going to separate ourselves from you-know-who's rule. I mean it's starting to get pretty bad. He is rising, killing, and to tell you the truth Draco I'm getting a bit angsty. Father is really pushing me to take the mark. Your father probably is too. I'm running out of time. No. We are running out of time."

No. Draco wanted to say. He father wasn't pushing him at all. In fact it was a bit strange how unforward his father was as of late. In fact he hardly talked of the Dark Lord anymore. During the summer he got called on frequently. Leaving during noon and always back before dinner. Always. His father for some reason always treasured supper. Everyone must be present. Everyone including him. Draco didn't know how he pulled it off but he never missed one. And those quiet suppers were the moments he treasured. Because everything else was about work, school, the light and the dark. Supper was normal. And he loved it.

Draco was worried when he looked back on how his father had been acting during the end of summer. He seemed more sluggish and tired. More strained, as if he had the weight of the world on his back.

"Same. Before I got on the train Mama told me that it was happening. This summer she's making me take it," a voice to his right murmured. Being pulled from his thoughts Draco turned towards her and almost choked at what he saw. She was terrified. That much was obvious. Looking at seemingly nothing it seemed as if she was talking to herself. She gripped the polish brush as if it was her lifeline, knuckles white with tension. Her nails were a lurid red, glaring in the candlelight and they looked as if they were painted on by a toddler. Her hands looked mangled and bloody. As is she just recently ripped someone's heart from their unforgiving chest. Or maybe it was hers.

Out of Draco's circle of friends (which consisted of Pansy and Blaise) Pansy was the one that was most damaged. Draco couldn't even begin to imagine the horrors she faced in her household. Being an only child, and a girl she has been through alot in the past years. The reason that she used to be "obsessed" with Draco was because her mother pushed her to pursue him. Being that she was the sole heir of the Parkinson family it was her "duty" to marry into money and continue the Parkinson line. Love or no love.

And it was always during this time when she was at her worst. Right after summer lets out she always came back more rattled then last time. He loved Pansy, he really did. Platonically of course. In the middle of fourth year he had found her in one of the broom closets in the middle of a panic attack. Since then he has taken her under his wing and with Blaise the three of them have been inseparable since. They all knew each other's secrets. All equally as dark. And that's what made them so close to each other.

Draco leaned forward and pried the blood red colour from her hands just as Blaise began to rub circles into her back it. Draco then pulled her onto his lap and began petting her hair. He heard her begin sniffling. Hugging her tighter he held her for hours until the crying subsided. All while he had a glint in his eye. This would be over, he thought. This would soon be all over.

* * *

Draco again found himself walking through the halls of Hogwart. He stared at the portraits as he passed them, being reminded of the the faint laughter that he had heard not once, but twice when he was stopped by a voice.

"Draco," it said. It was faint. It was feminine. And it was most certainly behind him. Turning around he began to scowl when it automatically deflated. It was Hermione, and after a quick survey of the hall she was alone. It looked as if she had been crying recently. Her eyes red and puffy. It reminded him of Pansy and he couldn't be a jerk when a crying girl comes to him in need of help. As cold hearted as he seemed to be, he just couldn't do it.

"Yes Granger?" Draco replied in the softest tone that he could possibly try to do. He didn't want to seem threatening and he was tired, it was late and he was curious on what she had to say.

"Um..well let me say this first, you weren't my first choice," she said drifting off and looking nervous at what she was about to say.

"Aw is the little mudblood about to confess. How cute." Holy. Shit. Draco flinched. Did he just say that thought Draco. How on earth did that even slip out? Why did he say that? He knew that it was the wrong this to say even before she reacted.

Hermione jerked back as if she'd been lashed. 'Hurt' was written across her face. "Wow" she said, voice cracking. "And here I thought that you had changed." She turned around and started walking in the opposite direction.

Without realizing it he reached forward and grabbed the back of her robe and yelled, "Hermione! WAIT!"

Hermione froze. Neither of them moved. It was this long duration of awkward silence when she finally spoke up, "You just called me Hermione."

Still not moving from their position Draco replied hesitantly, "Well yeah.. That's your name right?" Draco didn't know what to do. He was internally freaking out, wondering what he should do. Should he move first or should he wait for her to move? He was just waiting for the inevitable to happen.

"No," she said. This time with purpose and she turned to face Draco. The hand that clutched her robe only moments before fell to his side. "You called me Hermione. Just like you called Harry, Harry the other day." She could see the realization slowly dawned on his face. "You do care," she whispered, giving him a small smile.

Draco was out of his element. He was in the middle of a hallway. Late at night talking to the Granger girl. And for the first time in his life he didn't know what to say. "Um.. uh..," he said intelligently. "What are you talking about?"

Stepping uncomfortable close to him Hermione searched his face for something he did not know and said, "Harry. Or just people in general for the matter." The smile still on her face she continued, " You are worried about him."

Draco sputtered, "W-what! What are you talking about?!"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Don't act like you know anything Granger," he said defensively, steel dripping into his voice.

Hermione still not taking the hint kept talking. "I've noticed. The past few years you have backed off. I mean still the usual threats but less. Almost as if you didn't want to be a git.. As if you actually didn't want to hurt Harry," she said, voice softening as she spoke.

Draco just stood there, again at loss for words. He knew whatever he said would be dissected and analyzed by the young woman in front of him. Whenever Granger wanted to know something, she found out. She doesn't just kick her feet up and let the answers be handed to her. She's a trooper, she got out there. And that was one of the things he secretly respected about her. True, she didn't know his full story, not even close. But he could see the determination in her eyes. And he could see that she wanted something. "Okay what do you want," he relented, letting his guard down.

The small smile she wore now diminished, eyes becoming shadowed. "Harry. I need help. I need help finding him," she said, resolve starting to show in her brown eyes.

"Why would you need to find him? Didn't Dumbledore say that Potter was under the protection of the Aurors? That he was training? Of all people I'd think you would believe him," said Draco folding his arms.

"That's the thing," Hermione said. "I don't know what to think. Professor Lupin fire called on the first day to see how things were. And the thing is.. he asked where Harry was. And when I asked him, his response was that the last time was when he was helping him get his supplies from Diagon Alley. I didn't want to say anything so that I wouldn't cause him to worry. But don't you understand,Draco? He's not with the Aurors. And I can't see see if he is here because Harry probably has the map. Draco, Dumbledore is lying."

Draco did understand. He understood all too well what it felt like to be betrayed. To be manipulated. To have reality hit him in the face. "If Dumbledore lied about this," he said slowly as realization dawned on him. "Then what else has he been lying about."

"That's what I'm talking about! I don't know! I don't know what to believe anymore," she said almost hysterically. "I'm freaking out because Harry could be lying dead somewhere and apparently no one gives a shit!"

Draco waited a moment for the brunette to calm down. He has never heard her curse and he wasn't about to step into unknown territory. Choosing his words carefully he asked the question he's been wondering the entire time they'd been talking, "What of the Weasley? And why are you asking me? I doubt that he would be ok with this little predicament." Her eyebrow rose, asking him to elaborate. "Me searching with you two."

Sighing, "Ron wouldn't come," she said.

Unable to hide his shock Draco's jaw dropped, then quickly shut as he remembered all the times he told Weasley he'd catch flies. Quickly regaining his composure he asked, "And why is that? Weasley think he's too good for manual labor?"

"Something like that," she replied ignoring his once again shocked face. "It's more like he doesn't care. And to be honest I think he's actually glad that he's gone. I mean I know that Ron has always been envious of the attention that Harry gets. With how large his family is I can see why. But to go so far as not care for Harry's well being.. I-I don't know what's gotten into him."

She was starting to get emotional again, he had to do something, and fast. Without thinking he put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her teary eyes. "I'll help you."

* * *

After Draco had finished talking to Hermione instead of going back to the Slytherin dungeons he found himself again walking through the halls. He tried to tell himself that it was so he could think about what just went down. But really, in the back of his mind he knew he was looking for Harry.

About half an hour later he had entered a section of Hogwarts he'd never been before. Draco knew he was on the seventh floor but other than what floor he was on he had no clue where he was or how to get back to the Slytherin dormitories.

From the corner of his eye a painting caught his attention. When he turned to look he was floored. Tears pricked his eyes from the sheer unprepossessing canvas that lay before him. The vile illustration that had him close to heaving over Hogwarts' marble floors.

Turning around to the wall behind him he went through his mind of what he had just seen. Six, or maybe it had been eight fully grown trolls clad in full pink ballerina wear, doing ballet. There may have also been a man in the middle, but Draco didn't care. He was trying to eradicate the image from his mind as fast as possible. He would never be able to look at ballet the same way again. Practically dry heaving at the thought of Swan Lake (which had been made by wizards believe it or not) he turned to look at the plaque underneath the canvas, careful not to soil his eyes any further. It was too much to handle.

 _Barnabas the Barmy._

The name drew Draco back to Binns' class where he vaguely mentioned a man who foolishly tried to train trolls into learning ballet. Apparently someone painted the ghastly event in history. Making a mental note to find out who the painter was to send his eye doctor bill to his family, Draco unconsciously began pacing in front of the visual catastrophe. The painter must have been been high off some good shit because Draco was never getting the scarring image out of his head.

It was then that Draco stopped his pacing. Because to his right was a door that was not there before. Starting to think that the painting may have done a little more damage than he thought, he touched the door to make sure it was solid.

Sure enough it was, curiosity taking over the rational part of his brain, wand in hand Draco moved to take the handle and opened the door, not knowing what to expect.

* * *

The room was about the size of the Slytherin common room, which by default was pretty large. The floor was covered in a thick, dark green carpet, which Draco found would sink in once you walked onto it. Chairs were placed on a black rug that seemed to have strange symbols in front of a fire that was roaring with life.

But what had really caught Draco's attention was the tall canvas over the hearth. The background was of a window of what seemed to be overlooking the grounds of Hogwarts. A small figure sat on the windowsill and was looking out to the grounds, as if searching for something.. From behind, Draco could see his the nest of crazed black hair and Slytherin Hogwarts robes. He was somewhat relaxed, hugging his boney knees to his chest. Did he go to school here at one point, Draco thought. Thinking back he couldn't think of a teacher ever mentioning this particular painting. Then again he didn't remember Barnabas the Barmy. He shuddered at the thought then looked back at the painting.

The boy, dejectedly looking out the window seemed as if what he was looking for, was lost. There seemed to be no aspiration in the boy's eyes, as if all he had was just ripped away from him. The young man seemed to be a doleful soul, yet so familiar at the same time.

Draco was so occupied with staring at the sad boy that he didn't notice when a Snow White owl started flying towards him. He did though, in fact, feel the owl when she crash landed on his head.

"Hey, you damned…," he stopped muttering when he recognized the Snow White owl that had practically ambushed him. "Hedwig?!" He gasped. His eyes widening when he turned back to the painting in bewildered comprehension. "No way..." He walked closer. "POTTER?"

To Be Continued... 

**Dun, DUn, DUN! What has happened to Harry? Find out next week (hopefully). But anyway, hope you enjoy the second chapter! Review please (Constructive Criticism)!**


	3. Author's Note

Hello Lovelies. It has come to my attention that Chapter 3 decided to HTML me. I am truly sorry for the delay. Once I fix it, I'll repost the chapter CORRECTLY. Fanfiction just hates me, is all. THANK YOU FOR EVERYONE WHO INFORMED ME! That was so embarrassing...

-Mello 3


	4. Chapter 3

**Hello internet. It has also come to my attention that the first two chapters are not separated correctly. I'll fix those too. Here is the new and improved (read readable) Chapter 3. Hopefully everything goes through without a hitch. Fingers crossed.**

 **Disclaimer: I doth owneth Harry Pott'r**

Chapter 3

The boy in the painting frowned as he walked through the halls.

Literally.

He has been here for the entirety of the summer and had no clue as to who did this to him. How could someone possibly make him into a painting? Sal said that only a select few could accomplish the task and unless there were some descendants of the Founders in Hogwarts. But even then it is tedious work and was rarely ever sought out to do. Even though there were hundreds of them in Hogwarts alone.

The only known, possible descendent was Voldemort. As if he would be walking the halls right now, Harry chuckled in thought.

The raven haired boy was halted in the middle of his musings when he heard a loud commotion coming from just around the corner. Investigating the sound, he found three people. One with long, bushy, brown hair. She was standing next to a red headed tomato looking boy. The last was standing with his back towards him, a boy who was tall with platinum blond hair.

'What are they doing here?' He thought. He snickered when the redhead fell after the punch and continued to fall because of his own blood. Bloody Hell was fairly accurate. He watched as a bat-like man came from around the corner. The fun was over after that. The boy sighed before turning back down the hall he came.

Maybe Sal was right. Being a painting really _does_ have its perks sometimes.

But where there is good, there was also downsides. Such as not being able to see his friends, or learning new magic, or being able to watch the fair haired beauty in... Merlin what was he thinking! The thoughts that roamed through his head were foreign to him. What was this strange feeling? He knew he hated the boy, so why did he find him so...enchanting? The boy pushed the thoughts into the back of his mind, no, he'd never admit to his fantasy-like thoughts.

He stopped his musings as he came upon the picture of _Barnabas the Barmy._ 'What a horrid thing.' he thought, turning to walk to his own lonely frame. Sometimes, Sal would visit. But the man was always busy trying to keep the school's other paintings at bay. The boy wouldn't lie, those paintings could _party_. Their alcohol was stronger than anything he had ever tasted. He didn't even know that painting had working tastebuds!

So Sal would visit, but the loneliness was always present. If only his friends could find him, he knew that that option wasn't to come though, there wasn't much of a choice. If he was still here then finding him would be impossible.

A single tear tracked down the boy's face, glinting from the lights of the enchanted sunset shining behind him.

'I wish this could finally all end.'

* * *

A few days later, as he was strolling through the halls, he came across muffled crying coming from the doors of the astronomy tower. As he got closer he noticed his blond boy hugging the Pansy girl as she cried on his shoulder.

"I can't have that… that THING on my arm." she gasped through a choked sob. "That horrible creature of a man can stick his wand up his arse before I take it." A sad sounding chuckle came from the black boy.

"We feel the same way Panse."

The four sat in silence before the girl spoke up again. "What are we going to do?"

"We need to find Har-Potter." the blond said. The raven frowned. "If we find him, we could ask him for forgiveness or something. Plus, everyone is willing to listen to him." The three all agreed before tidying themselves up and leaving the tower.

The boy just stood there, watching the wind go through the trees, for he doesn't know how long. He sat there for maybe hours before a light touch to his shoulders made him jump.

"Sal!" he exclaimed when he saw the smiling man behind him. "You _know_ not to do that."

"I'm sorry my boy, but it amuses me every time." The man's smile widened. Salazar Slytherin, or Sal to the boy, stood at a whopping 6'5. His silver eyes showing his amusement. "But my question is, why you aren't in your painting?"

"I was exploring." The boy stated with a pout. "Why aren't you in _your_ painting?"

"Touché." He smirked. "Anyway, I went to see if anyone noticed about your...disappearance. It appears that most are questioning the Old Man's sanity at the moment. Especially the Slytherins. It seems as if they noticed your absence more than most. Even Snape is gloomier than usual. Though, watching those Gryffs have to face the wrath of Severus Snape is quite amusing, if I do say so myself."

"Of course you would." The boy turned back to the opening. The sun was just starting to set. The bright sunset colors illuminating the darkening sky. The boy couldn't help but feel sad and helpless.

How was he going to get back to normal? What if it was impossible? What if he was stuck in this eternal life forever? He'd never grow old, have a lover, have children. He'd never be able to see HIM again.

"Come child." Sal said once the founder noticed the tears begin to run down the boys face. "Let's go back to your painting."

* * *

His painting wasn't very different from others. Yes, his was hidden in the Room of Requirement. And no, no one knew about his painting. But other than that, it wasn't different.

It was a painting of a window similar to those around Hogwarts. It had a view of the school grounds. The Quidditch Pitch was to the far right, Hagrid's hut was to the left, and the Forbidden Forest was behind the two.

Sometimes, when he's bored, he'd watch the students play Quidditch or walk to COMC. Though both made him a bit depressed. For all he knew, he'd never be able to do that ever again.

The boy's reflecting was stopped when Draco Malfoy walked in. He didn't turn as the blond stepped farther into the room. He made no sound, until Hedwig attacked the blond to which he laughed. He jumped when the blond called out his name.

"POTTER?" Draco called out in surprise.

The boy ran.

To Be Continued...

 **DONE. Hopefully. Have fun (unless it flubs again) and remember. Constructive Criticism! 3**


End file.
